


The Name of Absence

by Epitumbidia



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Agender!Noctis, Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Misgendering, Nonbinary Character, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 13:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11464749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epitumbidia/pseuds/Epitumbidia
Summary: A fill for the kinkmeme: Noctis Lucis Caelum is nonbinary and this is a small collection of moments exploring how their identity intersects with their friends, family, and society at large.





	The Name of Absence

**Author's Note:**

> I had about 80% of this story down within two days of starting it, but ended up getting writer's block for a month because the story became way too personal and autobiographical for my liking (as I'm also agender.)
> 
> So enjoy nearly 5K worth of word vomiting and purple prose all over the place.

Growing up, Noctis never understood what was so special about titles. "His royal highness" lost any real meaning after hearing it a million times over in their short life. The price of royalty meant always being acknowledged by those titles. Those words only spoke of their station in life, but nothing about their personality or their inner self. The words started to bleed together as they grew up. Noctis was simply a prince, a second in command. Those titles, those words, didn't mean much more than that; not until they reached high school, that is.

It was there where Noctis started to truly learn about the supposed absence of their "self," or so their classmates would have them believe.

"Hey man, isn't that girl cute?" "Ugh, why can't he do anything right for me? Take me out on a date, treat me like a real man would?"

Noctis began to question what exact "real" meant to their peers. Noctis were real—flesh and blood like everybody else. "Man" and "woman" didn't mean anything to them other than describing what kind of body parts the other person possessed. But that never said ANYTHING about what a person's moral character was or what kind of pastimes they enjoyed. So the question of "man" or "woman" never crossed Noctis' mind until then.

By then, they began to question the words they heard in their everyday life.

Their father, the king of Lucis, addressed his son simply by name. Gender, as a concept, was never discussed in any deep manner. As the prince, Noctis already had what they needed to know. But ruminating on their past, Noctis remember a particular moment where the pieces started falling into place.

* * *

 

During the first days of attending high school, Noctis approached their father at night, when all was still and there were was no more official Lucian business to be had.

"Dad, can I ask you something?" Noctis asked, quiet and apprehensive as he looked beyond his father's eyes.

"Yes, of course." Regis responded, his voice full of warmth for his beloved son.

"At school, we have a psychology class, you know? And we learn about our roles as men and women and all that." Noctis started while holding his hands together, rubbing this thumb against his palm as a way to calm himself.

Regis said nothing and Noctis took that as a signal to continue: "And it got me thinking, what exactly does being a man mean?" Noctis looked at their father, anxiety plainly written on his face. Regis, perhaps understandably, was at a loss. How could he answer such an obvious question? Instead, he answered back: "However do you mean, son?"

Noctis bit the inside of their cheek at the word "son." They had hoped that they didn't need any further explanation, but they started this conversation and so had to push forward.

"I mean, people tell me how good looking I am for a boy my age and how I should be into certain things..." Noctis trailed off, ruminating on his boys loved to play rough or men had to be strong and not cry.

"I'm sorry, but I do not understand," Regis replied with obvious concern written in his voice.

"That's my thing dad, I don't understand either." Noctis replied quickly and without thinking.

"You do not understand?" Regis repeated after Noctis, now with a tinge of alarm in his voice, though he tried to bite that feeling back.

"Yeah...I mean, people keep talking about how I should act a certain way because I'm a man, but I don't get what that means to me..." Noctis gazed over to the side of the room, avoiding his father's anxious stare.

"It's just...I don't FEEL like a man. I'm just...ME." Noctis sighed, knowing full well that they weren't explaining themself very well.

Noting the distance between himself and his son, Regis crossed the room and reached over to Noctis' shoulder, jerking Noctis out of his aimless stare and looking straight into his dad’s eyes.

"So, you do not feel like a man?" Regis asked plainly.

"Yeah, I don't, but..." Noctis' hesitantly replied.

"But...? Do you feel like a woman?" Regis responded, tentative of Noctis' response. "You know, there is a precedent for such a person..." Regis started, but Noctis' hand reached towards his own on their shoulder, stopping him.

"No, not a woman either. Just...me. I don't know how to put that into words to make you understand." Noctis sighed in resignation.

"So...neither then?" Regis asked, hoping to find an answer beyond unknowns.

"I guess, that's the closest I can say," Noctis said. Taking their father's hand off his shoulder and holding it in their own hand, they pull Regis into a hug, one that is long overdue in their eyes.

"I'm so sorry dad...I know I'm not the man you wanted me to be..." Noctis whispered into their father's clothes, not having the courage to look at his face.

"Noctis, don't ever say that. You are..." Regis hesitated, trying to find the words to comfort his son. "You are...whole and complete. You are nothing more or less than who you are and I love you for everything you are." Regis finished, hoping to reach Noctis' now rapidly beating heart.

Noctis nodded their head against their father's chest, feeling  a small sense of relief, of knowing this conversation didn't go as badly as he predicted it would.

"Then tell me son, what would you have me do? Regis asked earnestly.

"Well, not calling me 'son' would be nice..." Noctis responded, unable to hide the sardonic tone in their voice.

Regis, recognizing his mistake, mentally kicked himself. "I apologize, Noctis. Then, if not that, what do you want me to say? I can't say I know how to address a person who is neither man or woman," Regis said, hoping that Noctis would know the answer to a question he never knew he'd have to ask his own child.

"Just using my name is good." Noctis replied, feeling themselves relax into Regis' embrace.

"Of course," Regis started, "but what of the public? How should they address you?"

Noctis felt their breath stopped for a moment. They hadn't thought that far yet. "Maybe calling me a prince is good enough. I don't want to have to explain myself to every single stranger I meet at this point," Noctis started before Regis interrupted: "And you don't want people calling you a man then?"

Noctis flinched; they knew the topic of pronouns had to come up at some point.

They nodded again, not trusting their voice to hide their guilt. They didn't think this conversation through and the anxiety of putting concrete words to their identity was starting to put a strain on their conscience. None of this was his or his dad's fault, but Noctis couldn't help but feel as though they failed as a person the longer this conversation went. "Uh..." Noctis began, but stopped as their heart beat faster with every second. How could they possibly explain something so outside the norm, to their own dad no less? What if he rejects them? What if he tries to force them to be somebody they're not for the sake of propriety?

Despite Regis' understanding tone at this point, Noctis couldn't help but run the worst case scenarios in their head over and over again. They gathered their courage to look into their father's eyes, hoping for the best but expecting the worst: "...Do you know about the singular 'they,' dad?" Noctis asked, rather, more like whispered.

"Yes, I do." Regis answered plainly, already seeing the thread of his child's thoughts.

"Then that's it," Noctis announced, hoping this signaled the end of the conversation.

"That's it," Regis repeated, holding his child close while running a calming hand through their hair.

* * *

 

Meeting and befriending Prompto Argentum has to be one of the biggest highlights of Noctis’ life.

Reminiscing on their friend, what solidified this to Noctis was the small, quiet looks Prompto gave them whenever conversations in school inevitably came up surrounding dating and future relationships. Their classmates, with excited proclamations and contend sighs, would describe their ideal future partners with such detail, yet Noctis remained silent and looking off into the distance. More than once, they had to be shaken slightly or have their name be called out loud to bring them back to reality. It was a shock to their system every time, but this was the best way Noctis found themselves coping: to watch the scene outside of themselves as an objective viewer and not as a participant. They didn’t need another reminder of how they didn’t fit in.

What started off as silently looking slowly turned into quick check-ins and questions; Noctis could tell Prompto was curious about his lack of engagement on these topics, but his questions were small and notably non-invasive. The question wasn’t “Why don’t you want to date,” it was “Does talking about these things make you uncomfortable?” _These things_ were obvious to gauge for Noctis, but he appreciated Prompto’s tact, something he wasn’t used to experiencing with the cheerful, excitable young man he’s come to know.

On the last day of school for the year, he asked Prompto to come over and sleepover at his apartment to celebrate ending their first year of school and their first year as friends together.

“Hey Noct, can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t to…” Prompto started, his eyes to the ceiling as he and Noctis were lounging together on the couch.

Noctis had turned to his side, checking his phone for any random things to ward off sleep. That was a rarity, but this night was so relaxing, they found themselves not wanting it to end—not until Prompto had asked that question, of course. Now, they had a sinking feeling of what Prompto wanted to ask and wished they had fallen asleep sooner.

“Yeah, Prom?” They replied, sounding a bit curter out loud than they meant it to.

“Uh, like I said, you don’t gotta answer, but I’m wondering…do you want me to call you something besides your name?” Prompto felt the heat rising to his face as he blushed, thankful that the lights were off as to not let Noctis see the embarrassment on his face. “This is awkward, I’m sorry. I just don’t know how to ask this without sounding rude, you know?”

Noctis let out a soft, nervous chuckle while putting their phone down, turning to sit up straight on the couch from the prone position they were in before. They looked over at Prompto, who was still laying down and staring at the ceiling as the air between them started to change. Noctis couldn’t help but return Prompto’s nervous energy, mentally preparing their response in the head over and over again.

Hoping they had read their friend’s intentions correctly, Noctis replied: “Prom…my name’s fine, but I get the feeling that wasn’t the question you really wanted to ask me.” It was short and direct, yet allowed Prompto some wiggle room in case he wanted to drop the subject altogether…or at least that’s what Noctis was hoping for.

“Jeez, I’m that obvious huh?” Prompto acknowledged with a sigh. He could tell by Noctis’ tone that they were about to go on the defensive if he didn’t phrase this next question right. He was so close to just changing the topic, but he couldn’t back down now, not if his friend’s potential safety was involved.

“Well, please don’t get mad at me if this sounds off, but do you…not want to be a boy?” Prompto felt himself wince as the words left his mouth. Once again thankful for the dark room for hiding what was no doubt an awkward expression on his face, Prompto waited for the inevitable denial he was expecting.

But he got none. No reaction at all.

The unease morphed into a growing panic as Prompto continued: “Not that it matters! You can be whatever you want, I’m just scared because you disappear on me whenever we talkaboutguythingsandI’mworriedyoumightbehurtingandI-”

“Prom,” Noctis stated firmly, stopping Prompto in his motormouthed speech, “I understand what you mean. The answer is yes, but it’s a bit more…complicated than that,” finishing their statement while reaching out and finding Prompto’s hand. Noctis pulled his hand slightly, helping Prompto to sit upright and look at them, face to face.

The concern mixed with anxiety was plain on Prompto’s face as their eyes traced the lines on Prompto’s grimace. Noctis took this increasing silence as much needed time to come up with several responses to whatever his friend will say next; they hoped to whichever of the Astrals will listen that Prompto will remain his friend once the truth is out. Because even with the “not like it matters” reply, Noctis knows full well that the nature of their gender will matter in the future—not only to the relationships they’ll create and hold, but to their future as King.

As the silence hung in the air for longer and longer, Noctis sighed and asked: “Do you want to hear the whole story or just the summary?”

Noctis didn’t seem upset or offended, Prompto thought to himself as he tilted his head slightly, his concern slowly changing into inquisitive hope.

“Whatever you want to say, Noct,” he replied, hoping that would be what Noctis wanted to hear. He’s already made enough presumptions, now maybe he’ll get to hear the truth. “But I meant what I said: I’m here for you, not matter what,” Prompto finished while bringing himself to look Noctis in the eyes. Taking measured breaths, Prompto hoped that his friend could see the sincerity of his words on his face and feel his loyalty in his hands, both of them now cupping onto Noctis’ own. Prompto understood the feeling of being ostracized over something he was born with; the last thing he wanted to do was pay his first true friend with the same burden.

Noctis could feel the warmth of a blush rising on their face, touched by his kind words. They felt the urge to bring Prompto’s hands up to their lips to kiss them, but they opted to bring his hands to their chest. Feeling the warmth on Prompto’s hands against their beating heart centered Noctis, wanting nothing more than to cherish this single moment in time as they said: “Well, do you want a snack or something? Because this may take a while…”

* * *

 

 

As it turned out, it really was that simple for Noctis.

After speaking to their father, the citadel employees started to refer to them by their royal title alone; not a "he" or "man" to be found in their words. Noctis tried not to make a huge deal out of this sudden change, thanks in large part to his dad’s quiet announcement to his people. Noctis felt two ways about this decree: relief that he had the support of family and wanting to brush the whole thing off as simply business as usual; they wanted life to simply go on. To anybody of noteworthy rank, Noctis was simply the prince, but that wasn't anything new. However, that didn't mean the reminders of their absent manhood went away—not when it meant dealing with the two people closest to Noctis: their shield and their advisor.

To their surprise, Gladiolus' reaction to Noctis' gender was about as underwhelming as they could've ever hoped for.

"Hey, we all have our shit to deal with Noct," Gladio spat out while in the middle of training, blocking a strike from Noctis, who tumbled to the ground on unsteady feet.

"Huh? You don't care?" They asked, quietly stunned by Gladio's lack of reaction. Of all people, Noctis expected someone who oozed masculinity like Gladiolus Amicitia to have a larger, if anything more violent, reaction than that.

"Look, I won't pretend to understand what you're going through, but you're my liege and my friend. That's all I need to know," Gladio said, holding out a hand to help Noctis back on to their feet. Grasping Gladio’s outstretched hand, Noctis smiled at the shield’s words which filled him with a mix of relief and mild shock.

That warmth and understanding was absent with their advisor.

* * *

 

When Ignis first heard of the King’s decree regarding Noctis’ gender and their preference of address, he was flabbergasted, though nobody would ever see that in his face. The concept of gender and how it could manifest differently in people wasn’t new information to him. But the apparent lack of gender was a concept he hadn’t even begun to consider as legitimate.

How could one not feel any gender? Or is it the name of absence that is the identity?

And that pronoun, “they?” Noctis was the crown prince of Lucis, heir to the throne, and the most important person in this country, possibly even the entirety of Eos. In Ignis’ eyes, “they” reduced Noctis to an object, a nonentity—that was simply unacceptable.

Ignis had intended to confront Noctis about the matter, but quickly found himself outnumbered three-to-one when he arrived at Noctis’ apartment. What should’ve been Noctis alone, most likely napping, turned out to be Gladiolus, Prompto, and Noctis sitting in the living room; the latter two were playing a video game that he paid no mind to, since his gaze was focused square on Gladiolus. It was rare to see the future shield hanging out like this, especially on his free time. Prompto, on the other hand, wasn’t a big surprise to see anymore; ever since he and Noctis became friends, Prompto’s presence became a fact of life for Ignis.

So, to see all three of them here, at the same time gave Ignis pause.

After exchanging greetings, Ignis entered the kitchen and started his routine for dinner, all the while preparing what he wanted to say to Noctis once Prompto and Gladiolus made their exits. In the middle of chopping up carrots (that Ignis will inevitably have to eat himself, as the prince will avoid them like the plague,) he overhears Prompto shout with joy; no doubt he just won whatever round of whatever game he and Noctis were playing.

“Woo! Three rounds in a row! Beat that Noct,” Ignis overheard, internally rolling his eyes. He wonders if this will bring Noctis’ mood down, but looking up away from his task and looking at Noctis, he saw a smiling face and a look of warmth that Ignis wasn’t used to—at least not from the last few months. He could sense the distance growing between himself and Noctis growing little by little as both needed to prepare themselves for adulthood and all that entailed. Ignis made sure to remind Noctis of his (or “their”) future role as King, to be a presence in the minds of the people, and do right by the duty he would inherit.

And all of that would crumble under the pressure of not even knowing how to address their future King. Such indecision wouldn’t bode well for Noctis or the kingdom in Ignis’ point of view.

Deciding to address the situation as privately as he could, he called Noctis over to the kitchen, noticing their slight hesitation as he got up and looked back at Gladiolus and Prompto. The three held each other’s gazes a bit too long for Ignis, feeling as though he was being left out of a unspoken conversation. Noctis finally turns and stride over to the kitchen, pointed in his avoidance of eye contact; it was as though he could intuit Ignis’ thoughts, but that didn’t surprise the advisor. He’s never been one to mince words with the prince, especially if it was for his charge’s own good.

Standing face to face, Ignis opted for being direct: “I heard the King’s proclamation earlier.” Ignis left the statement hang in the air, wanting to gauge Noctis’ reaction.

“Yeah,” came the response, the tone flat of their tongue. Ignis could already guess this conversation will not go well, but he persists nonetheless.

“And where exactly did this all come from?” Ignis asked, trying to keep his voice down and the accusation out of his tone.

“From me, where else? My dad said everything that needed to be said,” Noctis spat out, the tension in their voice becoming more obvious the longer they spoke. As troubled as he felt seeing the prince growing more and more confrontational, Ignis needed answers and he needed them directly from Noctis, not a royal decree.   

“So, can you tell me what exactly is meant by ‘they?’ You aren’t a thing, a non-person. How can people take you seriously when you don’t even know who you—”

“I know who I am, don’t you dare say otherwise!” Noctis exploded at Ignis, with a chill in his voice and made the entire room go cold.

Ignis gaped at the prince, now at a complete loss as to how to address the situation. There was no doubt that everybody in that room heard what was said and soon enough, Gladiolus and Prompto stood at either side of Noctis. Together, they were a wall, built of anger, of protection, and of loyalty to their future king. Ignis straightened up, his posture betraying the pounding in his heart.

Before he could reply to Noctis, he felt a hand grip his left shoulder, forcing his gaze to face Gladiolus’; with a measured voice, the shield started: “Ignis, was that really necessary?” Not even stopping long enough for Ignis to respond, Gladiolus continued: “I don’t pretend to know how or why Noct is this way, but I thought you were taught better than this.”

“Better than what now? I’m looking out for him, he needs to know-” Ignis started, but this time it was Prompto who interrupted: “Haven’t you noticed that they’ve been avoiding having this conversation with you BECAUSE you’re reacting like this? Accusing them of not knowing their own identity is such an asshole thing to do, Ignis,” Prompto said, wrapping his arm around Noctis and holding him close, as though he were preparing to take a hit out in the battlefield.

Looking at the three men in front of him, Ignis cast his head down, his breaths becoming the rhythm that helped his heart slow down as he tried to think of a way of saying what he truly felt: fear for Noctis, fear for his future, fear that Noctis couldn’t or wouldn’t be able to face the world with certainty, and fearing that he—as the trusted advisor—couldn’t protect Noctis from those who would harm him (them) for being who they are.

“Iggy…,” Noctis began again, his voice gone soft and warm, as though he felt the ice that had come over the entire room. “I know this isn’t the easiest to explain, but I just want you to trust me. Let me handle this—my identity is not your battle to fight for me. I’ve thought about this for years; all I want now is for you to keep supporting me as my friend, not just my advisor.”

“As your friend…,” Ignis muttered to himself, letting the words whirl in his mouth to see how they felt.

“Yeah, we all have Noct’s back, right?” Prompto asked, reaching to hold Ignis’ right hand. The four stood together, an unbroken chain of touches and holds, leaving Ignis reeling inside. He didn’t know what to say, so he nods his head, hoping that would convey his understanding.

Because above his apprehensions, above his need to analyze what he doesn’t understand, Noctis was and is always his first concern. If that meant Noctis needed him, then he would do nothing less than his best—as an advisor and as a friend.  

* * *

 

Traveling outside of Insomnia was a sobering experience for Noctis.

Once the arrangement for marriage was made to Lady Lunafreya, an old friend turned family figure, Noctis found themselves with their newly formed Crownsguard in Hammerhead, the old gas station in Leide. Seeing the outside world for the first time managed to be both an experience and nothing at all at the same time. Noctis knew they’d become too insulated by people’s acceptance in Insomnia; they knew outside of that wouldn’t be the same story.

Sweat and heat became a second skin to the four men when they pushed their beloved yet injured Regalia into the gas station where they were welcomed by a beauty they were least expecting. An hourglass figure, short blonde hair, and a country accent that sung of warmth and dusk greeted them, asking for their beloved prince. Noctis wanted to hide behind the Regalia at first, navigating how to explain to this woman—uh, person (last thing they need to do is assume)—how to address them, but they needn’t worry. Cindy Aurum, she introduced herself as, had a smile a bright as the horizon’s light and said the words Noctis least expected: “Paw-paw said you wanted to be addressed a certain way. That’s no problem with me, but if an’body gon’ give you trouble, you come straight to me, okay? I’ll settle the issue, if not Paw-paw himself.”

Noctis felt his eyes go wide for a split second, seeing his friends’ eyes turn to him, gauging his reaction. Ignis closed the distance between them quickly, bringing his hands to Noctis’ face. The touch of Ignis’ gloves shakes him from his mild shock, bringing them back to reality.

“Are you alright?” Ignis whispered, not wanting to alert Cindy or the others of any potential trouble.

“Yeah, just surprised. Don’t worry, I’m good,” Noctis replied quickly, a small smile on his face as he walked past Ignis and back towards Cindy.

“If y’all want, there’s a diner nearby. We need to get this baby in the garage so we can get to fixin’ it,” Cindy said, waving in the direction of the diner next to the garage.

“Thanks! I’m starving, let’s go!” Prompto shouted, grabbing Noctis and practically dragging them away to the diner, leaving Gladio and Ignis in the dust. Walking into the diner, the two made their way to the counter; as they ordered their food, they were greeted by Takka, the diner’s owner: “What will you gentlemen like?” The tone slightly sardonic, but mostly warm; nonetheless, Noctis felt as though they could hear the record scratch and stop in their head—a sudden reminder that the comforts of insomnia would not be found here or anywhere else.

Noctis felt themselves go into the same autopilot responses from when they were a child: “Yeah, hmm-hm, sure, whatever.” Anything to make any small talk end as quickly as possible. The longer Takka tried to make conversation, the more Noctis retreated into themselves. Prompto’s hand never left Noctis’ arm from earlier and it was feeling his friend’s skin go cold that gave Prompto pause. Seeing Noctis stare off into the distance, Prompto acted quickly by guiding them towards an empty booth and sat down, rubbing his hand on Noctis’ back. Too often when Noctis got like this, Prompto learned to simply stay quiet and maintain body contact, slowly willing the prince back to reality.

He was so wrapped up in doing this that he didn’t notice Gladio and Ignis joining them at the booth, quietly sitting down on the other side of the table. A light tapping on the table finally brought Prompto out of his “make sure Noctis is OK” trance. The three faced each other before looking at Noctis, still reeling inside themselves before Gladio reached over to Noctis and lightly held the hand that wasn’t currently being occupied by Prompto.

“Hey, Noct. We’re here now…come back to us,” Gladio whispered, his tone unusually tender for his ears, but one he knows is necessary for his friend’s peace of mind.

Noctis shivered at Gladio’s touch, but it was the response the other three were searching for: “Where am I?”

The answer should’ve been obvious, but this was now standard procedure: If Noctis couldn’t tell where they were despite being active seconds ago, they were in an “episode,” as Ignis kindly noted. As such, it was agreed upon to draw Noctis out of this predicament as quickly and as gentle as they could manage; trying to brute force their way had only cause the prince to sink deeper and as his Crownsguard, they wouldn’t allow anybody to hurt their friend that way.

What felt like an eternity ended when Noctis finally responded to Gladio’s and Prompto’s guiding touches, pulling back their hands to cover their eyes as they said: “I’m sorry guys…it just happened so quickly, I…”

“Don’t worry about it, shit happens,” Gladio stated, glancing over behind him to the other patrons to make sure nobody noticed anything off.

Ignis looked over Gladio, intending to tell the shield not to be so dismissive, but a hand on his caught Ignis’ attention as he looked back at Noctis. The two hands met at the middle of the table, with Noctis’ tearstained hand above Ignis’ gloved ones as he said: “Thanks, you guys. You saved my ass again.”

Noctis couldn’t help but let a small amount of self-deprecation taint his otherwise grateful words, but the meaning was understood; they were safe here, with their friends. Prompto, Ignis, and Gladiolus were—no, are—their saving grace. The ones who have their back no matter what and knowing that will make this journey worth it.


End file.
